Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“I don’t blame you, Ryet.”
“That’s not even my name. You know that’s not my name! Stop fucking calling me that!”
“We’re OK. That’s all I came to say. The children, they were saved.”
I shake my head and laugh. Looking up at the ceiling. Looking all around me. Looking at anything but this ghost in front of me. “Paul. This is you, isn’t you? You sick freak! You sick fuck! Come out—show yourself!”
“Goodbye, Ryet.”
I look back at Jane. “Go, then. Get the fuck away from me.”
“We’ll meet again one day.”
“I doubt that very much. Unless you’re planning a vacation to Hell.”
She smiles at me. But it’s a sad smile, something that conveys pity. “You’re not going to Hell, Ryet. You’ll be forgiven in the end because this isn’t about evil. But I guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”
And then she’s gone.
And I’m not standing at the end of the bed. I’m not in the cabin.
I’m not anywhere.
But everything around me is gold.
13 - Syrsee
This is what it means to be a vampire.
Isit up straight in bed, gasping, simultaneously feverish and chilled, and with an urge to vomit. But then I realize I’m not in bed. I’m not anywhere. I’m sitting on the ground—except there is no ground. I’m just in a golden mist.
“Well, at least it’s not purple.”
I turn and find Paul standing a little bit away, wearing a very nice black suit and with his feet hidden in the swirls of gold. I get out of the bed. “What is this? Why am I here? What do you want?”
Paul smiles. And for some reason, this smile of his—while gross, it’s always been gross—is also comforting. Not really the smile. Just… him. The fact that he’s here. I let out a breath in the same moment when he speaks again. “You came to me, dear Syrsee. I should be the one asking you that question.”
I get to my feet, disagreeing with him by shaking my head. “I don’t even know where I am, so stop with the lies.”
Paul pans a hand through the space in front of him, parting a path through the gold mist. The space around me changes to a room. A very nice room, actually. Like a penthouse sort of place with high ceilings and massive windows that show a cityscape blurred through a haze of sheer white curtains. “Relax, Syrsee. We’re going to be here for a little while. You might as well get comfortable.”
I walk over to the window and pull the curtain aside. I don’t recognize the city, but it’s not America, that’s for certain. The scene is nothing but old, weathered, gray buildings outlined by an even gloomier sky. “Where is this?” I turn to face him. “Where did you bring me?”
“It’s anywhere you want it to be. Because it’s nowhere at all. We’re in the gold now. You saw it.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you know what it is. You just don’t remember what it is.”
“Same difference. What is it?”
“It’s your magic, of course. Your new magic. Black witch magic. You had the purple because I gave that to you. It’s mine to give, you see. I gave that purple magic to Ryet. And Josep, as well. You’re all under my spell at the moment.”
This makes me recoil. “What does that mean?”
Paul walks forward to a seating arrangement in the center of the large room. Two golden wingback chairs face each other. There is a small table between them with a tea service for two. He pans his hand to the chair nearest me. “Have a seat. Let’s tea.”
I scoff. “Let’s tea?”
“We have things to discuss, why not get comfortable?”
There is a three-tiered tray of cookies and finger sandwiches on the table with the tea service and I’m suddenly very hungry for food, so I walk over to the chair and sit.
Paul waits for me to settle before taking his own seat across from me. Then he reaches for the teapot and pours us both a cup. “Go ahead. Help yourself to sugar and milk.” His smile is big and feels genuine.
If anything coming from a monster like him is ever genuine.
I add some milk to my tea, then sigh and take a sip as I lean back in my chair. It’s surprisingly good. And sweet, even though I didn’t add sugar.
Paul takes a sip of his as well, but while I hold the hot tea cup in my hands—loving the warmth—he puts his down. “Take a cake, if you’d like. They’re delicious.”
“This is a dream. Why are we eating and drinking in a dream?”
“It’s not a dream. It’s like a dream, but you know as well as anyone that the dreamwalk isn’t really a dream. The purple isn’t exactly real, but it’s definitely not imaginary, either. The gold acts in a similar way, but it’s far more powerful than the purple.”